I feel ya, Jack. After moving to Maine in the early 70s to live with my stepmother, she, my half-sister and I traveled to Vermont to meet friends who were visiting there from West Virginia. Someone came up with the idea of going up Stowe Mountain to have hot chocolate because the restaurant at the top has the BEST hot chocolate. To get there, we had to use the ski lift. We didn't have skis. Since we didn't have skis, we couldn't just gracefully drop and ski away from the lift. Instead, we had to jump into the cold wet snow. I didn't jump. Whoever was in the lift with me pushed me because I froze with fear. I landed in snow up to my knees that I had to escape while making sure skiers didn't dropped from the lift onto my head.

By the time we reached the restaurant, I was exhausted and so cold I couldn't feel my limbs. The restaurant was packed. We waited one hour for a table. And, the hot chocolate was nothing to write home about. NEVER AGAIN.

With that said, I probably would ride a lift in the summer if the lift wasn't too terribly high. Ben, on the other hand, would NEVER get on a lift - summer or winter. So, good for you and Deb!!